


Let's Hit the Highway at Warp Speed

by marathecactupus



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 21st Century AU, Multi, be warned: the ships are sort of just implied for now but they might eventually become actualized, meaning that everyone is a human on earth except for spock and nobody knows that aliens exist, roadtrip au, some uhura character study, update: now featuring some nerdy linguisticy conversations between spock and uhura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marathecactupus/pseuds/marathecactupus
Summary: Inspired bythis awesome tumblr post, about a roadtrip AU where Spock sees Jim's crop circles and comes to Earth, searching for his dad. I'll be going off-prompt, though, so stay tuned... and this is my very first fic ever, so fair warning: I am notoriously bad at sticking to deadlines, so if you want to continue reading this you might want to subscribe, since I can't guarantee that I'll be updating on a regular basis, or even at all. (Fingers crossed!)





	1. Nyota's room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just so you know, my Star Trek knowledge is limited to some casual watching of the AOS movies, my reading of several Spirk fics, and a handful of random tumblr posts ranging from TOS to fan art. So please let me know if I've screwed up any important character information! Or if you have any ideas for little details you think I'd like to know, please comment with those too.
> 
> (Also, I'm picturing this all like a movie, which is why I'm favoring external descriptions over internal thoughts, etc.)

The bedroom was remarkably tidy, but in a casual sort of way: photos neatly taped to the wall, basking in the comfortable glow of carefully-draped string lights; an old stuffed giraffe propped up between two trophies on the desk in a position of honor. Hand-stitched curtains fluttered in the evening breeze, letting the muted sounds of rural Americana drift in past their tiny embroidered stars and constellations. A compact stereo sat on the chair, within reach of the bed; the muffled sound of an international radio announcer reading out the hour’s news bulletin punctuated the otherwise lazy slew of guitar. Several boxes were stacked against the wall, waiting to be unpacked.

“I don’t know, it’s just feels a little weird, being out of the city again. After all the studying and the coffee, and the thin walls of that dorm–”

“Oh god, those walls,” groaned a voice in agreement, on the other end of the video call. “Tell me the apartment you picked has good insulation. Actually, no. I want to break at least one set of speakers before I’ve graduated; I’ve got a reputation I’ve gotta uphold.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed, adjusting the laptop on the mattress in front of her. “I might break something myself if I have to sit out here for three months. This whole year was just go-go-go, and now that I’m used to that, the very idea of vacation is making me restless.”

“Poor Nyota,” crooned the other girl sympathetically. “Maybe you could get a job–”

“–I _have_ a job, remember? That online internship?”

“Yeah, well, only you could be taking summer classes _and_ an internship online and still be bored. You need a little more spice in your life... go steal some cows, or something. Sneak into a cornfield and paint all the kernels blue. Isn’t that Kirk guy one of your neighbors? I’m sure he would be up for some summer shenanigans, if you know what I mean–”

Nyota rolled her eyes. “God, no, just because he lives a couple miles off doesn’t mean I have to _see_ him. Do you think I need more of that in my life? No, don’t answer that, Gaila; I know what you’re going to say,” she amended hurriedly, holding up a finger as Gaila opened her mouth excitedly. “Besides, he’s probably working at the auto shop or something.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” demanded Nyota.

“Nothing. Except... it sounds like you need a little vacation from your vacation,” began Gaila. “So you should totally visit me! I promise you, it’ll be a million times more fun than sitting around in _Iowa_ all summer, complaining about whatever it is you people do in Iowa.”

Nyota sighed. “Yeah, no, I can’t afford to just fly to Hawaii. And what’ll my parents say? ‘Oh, by the way, mom, dad, I know I just got here like a week ago, but I’m going to go spend the summer with my roommate who I’ve been living with all year, bye.’”

“Oh, come on – your parents are teachers, right? Why don’t you tell them that you’ve decided to utilize your vacation time to study abroad – shut up, Hawaii is literally overseas – and to get some first-hand data on linguistic variation, for your _major,_ at little to no cost for housing because you’ll be staying with me! See? Just think about all the research you could be doing... biology, geology, astronomy, we’ve got it all. It’s the perfect deal!”

“Hmm,” said Nyota, trying to hide the smile on her face.

“Admit it, I’m a genius. And you miss me already. You’d rather spend the summer with me, doing crazy research surveys and interviewing everybody in Hawaii about your nerdy linguistic stuff, learning to surf, becoming fluent in another forty languages...”

Nyota laughed, nodding around her smile, causing Gaila to make a triumphant sound in response. “Yeah, I miss you already,” Nyota agreed, finally giving up and letting the corners of her mouth tug her lips up into a grin.

Gaila beamed on the other end of the connection. “See? Now what are you waiting for? Let’s book that plane ticket!”

“I’ll talk to my parents about it in the morning,” promised Nyota. “They’ll want to know before I commit. God, packing’s going to be so easy, I’ve barely unzipped my suitcase...”

_THWACK._

Nyota snapped upright. 

“Hang on a sec.” She clambered out of bed and padded cautiously to the window, grasping a corner of the fluttering curtain – and when she whipped it back, she found a blonde, slightly wild-looking face peering up at her from the edge of her porch.

“I – what – _Jim?”_ she hissed incredulously. “What are you doing here? Are you drunk?”

“Wait – is that Jim Kirk??” came Gaila’s excited squeal, before Nyota swiftly turned the volume down a couple of notches. Then she crossed back to the open window.

“I’m not,” insisted Jim, craning his neck. “I mean, well, yes, technically I am ‘cause I remember drinking some stuff before I fell asleep–” (Nyota groaned) “–but that’s not the point!” he explained hurriedly. “The point is that I woke up and found a spaceship in my cornfield, and now there’s an alien in my barn, and he says he’s looking for his dad – the crop circles I made, the ones that were supposed to be a joke for those satellite cams – he says they were an SOS message, and god, now that I’m saying this all out loud it sounds completely stupid but I swear to god this isn’t a joke, and I need you to come verify that I didn’t just hallucinate it all... And if I did, then maybe you should drive me to the hospital...”

“Okay, just wait there, one second,” said Nyota, to keep him from blabbering on. She closed the window and drew the curtain, then turned back to her laptop. “Sorry, I have to go drive him home,” she told Gaila, turning the volume back up again. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t call me back in the next hour, I’m calling the cops,” swore Gaila.

“Better make that my parents,” Nyota agreed grimly. “But don’t worry. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

She shut the laptop with a snap, and after a moment of thought, grabbed the pepper spray along with her keys on the way out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this started just as an intro scene, but I'm starting to ship Nyota and Gaila... rest assured, I'm a sucker for happy endings, so, you know, everyone will end up together. Probably. But it'll be a reeaaal slow burn.
> 
> If anyone's out there reading this, let me know who you'd like to see next! I've got some very vague structural ideas, but apart from that, I'm just sort of writing this as I go. It's frankly terrifying.


	2. Jim's barn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Spock, this is Uhura; Uhura, this is Spock.” Jim rubbed his hands against his shirt anxiously, glancing back and forth between the two of them. Then he turned to Nyota. “Tell me you’re seeing him too,” he whispered breathlessly.
> 
> “Um, yeah, I see a guy in your barn,” muttered Nyota, rolling her eyes.
> 
> “The ears,” hissed Jim. “Look at his ears! Are they pointy?”
> 
> “As you have previously confirmed, my ears are, in fact, pointy,” supplied Spock, looking mildly embarrassed.
> 
> “Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” said Jim, causing Spock to blush a delicate green. “You know how I am when I’ve just woken up,” he added, seeing Nyota’s raised eyebrow. “He freaked me out, I grabbed his ear, let’s just say that it is definitely, 100%, attached to his head.”
> 
> “Great,” said Nyota, pressing her fingertips against her temples. “You grabbed his ear. ...yeah, I’m gonna need more explanation than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I'll be updating the tags as I go, so just because a character isn't mentioned yet doesn't mean they won't appear later ; )

“You _drove_ here, and you _know_ that you’re drunk?” she asked accusingly, when they’d rounded the corner to find Jim’s battered old pickup truck parked by the side of the road.

“I told you, I only had a few drinks, and that was _hours_ ago,” Jim replied defensively, raising his hands in surrender.

“Fine. But I’m driving.”

He tossed her the keys in response. “Be careful with her, okay? I just started working on her engine again.”

“When have I ever _not_ been careful with anything?” asked Nyota, smiling primly. She swung open the door and hopped in, sliding the keys into the ignition as Jim scrambled around to the other side of the truck.

“Ouch, as I recall, you’ve never been very careful with my heart,” he grinned.

She didn’t dignify that with a response, instead punctuating the silence with a rumble of the engine. Jim slammed the passenger side door, and they were off.

\- - -

Dawn was starting to creep into the sky as they made their way up the dusty private drive and slowed to a halt. The cornfield stretched lazily around the borders of the farmhouse’s scraggly yellow lawn; from the ground, if she didn’t know any better, Nyota would never have been able to tell that deep within that maze of corn, the stalks had been trimmed to form a series of winding pathways with geometric precision. As they reached the end of the drive, she found the pathway blocked by several cars in various states of repair, all parked haphazardly in front of the large barn.

“Come on, he’s just in there,” said Jim, when Nyota hesitated. “I had to move all my stuff out here so he could hide his spaceship inside.” She glanced over at Jim, squinting as though searching for some slight indication that he was joking, but when he continued to look at her with sincerity in his eyes, she huffed a sigh and turned the key to the ignition. The headlights turned off, throwing them into silent darkness.

“No, you don’t want to freak him out, okay?” Jim insisted hurriedly, as Nyota pulled out her pepper spray and held it at the ready. She cast a wary glare in his direction, but complied, letting her arms relax.

“I’m warning you, any funny business and I’m using this pepper spray on _you_ ,” she threatened.

Her phone buzzed once, and she quickly flicked it open to respond. 

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Lead the way.”

As they got closer, they could see that there was light emanating from the cracks between the barn’s doors; whoever was inside would have the advantage, as the pair were momentarily blinded.

“Whatever you do, don’t freak out, okay?” said Jim, and then he pounded a cautious fist against the door. “Hey, Spock, could you unlock the door? It’s just me, I brought a friend but it’s cool, you can trust her.”

The door unlatched, and then swung outwards, revealing... 

A human. In robes. “Greetings,” he said, in a smooth, neutral-sounding voice.

“Hi,” said Nyota warily.

“Spock, this is Uhura; Uhura, this is Spock.” Jim rubbed his hands against his shirt anxiously, glancing back and forth between the two of them. Then he turned to Nyota. “Tell me you’re seeing him too,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Um, yeah, I see a guy in your barn,” muttered Nyota, rolling her eyes.

“The _ears_ ,” hissed Jim. “ _Look at his ears!_ Are they pointy?”

“As you have previously confirmed, my ears are, in fact, pointy,” supplied Spock, looking mildly embarrassed. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” said Jim, causing Spock to blush a delicate green. “You know how I am when I’ve just woken up,” he added, seeing Nyota’s raised eyebrow. “He freaked me out, I grabbed his ear, let’s just say that it is definitely, 100%, attached to his head.”

“Great,” said Nyota, pressing her fingertips against her temples. “You grabbed his ear. ...yeah, I’m gonna need more explanation than that.”

“The spaceship!” exclaimed Jim, pointing. “You’re seeing this, right? That thing flew _right out of the sky_ and put a dent in my cornfield.”

“Apologies for my rudimentary landing,” said Spock, his voice still politely neutral. “I am accustomed to flying over desert terrain, and did not anticipate the presence of crops at the landing sight. Indeed, I was surprised to have been directed to such a heavily vegetated area at all, at least until I understood the mistake.”

“Yeah, sorry about that too,” Jim winced. “I just thought it was a cool design, I didn’t know that it actually meant something in your language.”

“Wait, hang on a second,” said Nyota, holding up her hands. Both men fell silent. “First of all, Jim, how the hell did you _accidentally_ pick a word in an alien language, that you don’t even _read,_ out of all the possible symbols you could have chosen?” 

Jim squirmed sheepishly. “Well, the book _did_ say that the translation was ‘SOS,’ but how was I supposed to know that aliens are real?” 

Nyota sighed, turning her accusatory gaze on the stranger instead. “And you – how are you even speaking English, anyway?” she added, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Have you been here before?”

“I have not,” admitted Spock, unfazed. “However, my father has studied foreign cultures extensively, and it is my understanding that he spent some time here on Earth several years ago. It took approximately one week for me to become proficient in this human dialect, guided by my knowledge of Universal Grammar, and aided by his recollections of Earth. Together, we were able to piece together what I hope is an adequate replication of your dialect.”

“ _Universal_ Grammar, indeed,” murmured Uhura, her face lighting up at the familiar mention of linguistics. “You keep calling this a ‘dialect’... where you’re from, aren’t there multiple languages? We refer to English as a language, not a dialect.”

Spock’s brow furrowed, but he maintained his neutral tone. “On Vulcan, we speak a single Standard language, with some regional variation. Is this not the case on Earth? Based on my limited knowledge of human texts, I was under the impression that English, Spanish, and French are all dialects of the same language.”

Nyota laughed. “For them to be dialects, they would have to be mutually intelligible. _C'est ça_?” she added to Jim, who proved her point by looking confused. 

“Ah,” said Spock. “Perhaps humans are less skilled at linguistic comprehension than Vulcans. I amend my previous statements.”

“I think it’s safe to say humans are a little less skilled at everything, if your ship is any indication,” said Jim, attempting to steer the conversation back into familiar territory. “How does it work?”

“Likely very different from human technology, if your own vehicle is any indication,” replied Spock smoothly. “I would attempt to explain it to you, but I find it doubtful that humans have achieved even a theoretical comprehension of Warp technology yet.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at my ability to comprehend crazy science shit, especially after I’ve had a few cups of coffee,” insisted Jim, grinning. “...but that explanation can wait. Scotty would kill me if we started without him.”

Spock looked slightly perturbed. “A most illogical motivation for homicide,” he observed. “Should I be concerned for my safety, while here on Earth?”

“No, I was just joking,” Jim explained hastily. “But don’t worry. We’ll tell you if you’re in any real danger.”

“My thanks.”

Nyota cleared her throat. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way... how exactly did you get here, Spock?”

“A long story,” said the alien. “I suggest that we sit down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak French, and I've never visited Iowa, so... if the translation is wrong, let me know!
> 
> In other news, I wrote a somewhat detailed structural outline at work today, so whoohoo! I have no idea if I'll end up sticking to it, but it's something! And happy little accidents keep happening, like my nerding out about linguistics, so hopefully y'all will be kept well entertained.
> 
> Oh, and stay tuned for Scotty in the next chapter or two...!


	3. "So, what's the plan?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please,” Nyota groaned, nodding soberly. “I just pulled an all-nighter talking to an alien who crash-landed in your yard, and now I’m about to lie to my parents and tell them I’m flying to visit my roommate instead of driving across the country with two guys I barely know. I need caffeine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...in which Spock explains the situation, and the humans get caffeinated.

“So you’re saying that your dad is somewhere here too?” Jim leaned forward in his swivel-chair, causing the workbench to creak ominously under the pressure of his outstretched legs. Nyota, who was perched on a stool nearby, had managed to obtain a pen and was now taking notes on the back of a receipt.  
  
Spock nodded. “Affirmative. He instructed me to wait for him on our ship until he deemed it safe to land. Our communicators encountered some form of interference upon entering Earth’s atmosphere, so when I saw your signal I assumed that he was attempting to contact me. I see now that I was mistaken.”  
  
He cast a lingering glance at the spaceship that was crowded into the barn behind them. It was small, as far as spaceships went: about the size of a house, large enough for two people to live in while accommodating a mysteriously alien engine. The outer shell of the ship had cracked; from the looks of it, Spock had either nose-dived into the cornfield, or maybe smashed into a tractor head-on. Nyota didn’t think that corn alone could have caused those dents.  
  
“Oh, man,” said Jim, looking guilty. “Yeah, it figures that Earth’s atmosphere would get all screwy with your GPS… so there’s no way for you to contact him here?”  
  
“As I previously stated, our typical technology is rendered unusable while we remain on Earth. Additionally… I regret to note that since I am now on the planet’s surface, and not watching from space, any similar signals that my father may attempt to send will go unnoticed. He cannot know that I am here.”  
  
That last note was said with such a soft, sad wistfulness that it stood out from his previous robotic tones. Nyota’s heart melted sympathetically. “But it’s still possible to find him, right?” she pressed, exchanging a worried glance with Jim. “Do you know roughly where he landed? We could start by looking there. And – maybe we could file a missing persons report, too?”  
  
Spock shook his head. “My father will not wish to reveal himself to human authorities. Besides, as he believes me to still be in space, it is unlikely that he has left any clues as to his whereabouts. As for his location at the time of landing, I have only a rough idea, based on my visual observations of the continent’s geographical features. And it is entirely possible that he has traveled away from that site, as he chose it solely for its privacy. He could be anywhere.”  
  
“Well… there has to be _something_ we can do to help you,” insisted Nyota.  
  
Beside her, Jim had whipped out his phone and was now pushing it into Spock’s hands, the screen display open to a satellite map of Earth. “Here! Where did he land?”  
  
Spock recoiled from the sudden closeness, but carefully accepted the phone, closing his eyes for a moment as if to draw up his own internal map. Then he pointed to the screen. “There.” Nyota and Jim crowded around him to peer over his shoulder eagerly, and Jim enlarged the spot below his finger, until finally Spock said, “That is as detailed as I can accurately recall.”  
  
“San Francisco?” Jim asked, glancing up at Spock.  
  
“It’s a major city on the West Coast,” explained Nyota. “Don’t worry, we can drive there. We’re on the same continent.”  
  
“Yeah, imagine if he was in the Arctic or something…” muttered Jim, taking a screenshot of his phone. “But San Francisco, that’s not too bad, right?”  
  
“I am not sure how accurate my recollections are,” said Spock dubiously. “A major city, you say? It would be more logical for my father to steer his landing pod to a less populated area, to minimize the risk of being seen.”  
  
“Yeah… hey, you said that you were accustomed to flying over desert terrain, right?”  
  
Spock seemed to stiffen, ever so slightly. “Yes, the planet that I grew up on had a desert climate. The abundant vegetation that you have here is… foreign to me.”  
  
“Well, do you think your father might have steered his pod towards a desert, if he saw that from space?” Jim zoomed out on the map slightly, then scrolled to the east. “There’s plenty of desert around southern California, all the way through the Southwest and down to Mexico… if you think he landed somewhere in California, maybe we should try some of the desert-y areas around there too.”  
  
Spock considered this. “A logical course of action.” He turned his attention to Nyota. “May I inquire as to your thoughts on this matter, Uhura?”  
  
Nyota examined the map, then mulled over her notes. “You said that your father had visited Earth before… and judging by your accent, I would say that he must have stayed somewhere in North America. Do you have any idea where he lived? Even if he didn’t land exactly there this time, he might have decided to visit it again.”  
  
“Most intriguing,” said Spock, nodding thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, my father has not gone into any detail regarding his last visit to Earth, aside from some generalized information about your species. If he has a specific destination in mind, he has not informed me.”  
  
“Hmm… Jim, can I talk to you for a minute?”  
  
Jim hopped to his feet from where he’d been leaning on the workbench. “Yeah, sure – hey, Spock, I was just gonna go inside and get some water. Do you want anything?”  
  
Spock looked unsure. “Water would be appreciated,” he allowed.  
  
“Great, just wait right here. –Uhura?”  
  
Nyota followed him outside the barn, and they found themselves blinking in the early morning light. Somewhere nearby, a bird had started whistling. “Shit, I’m going to have to call my parents,” said Nyota, checking the time on her phone. “It’s almost six; they’ll be awake soon.”  
  
Jim yawned. “I could do with some coffee. How about you?”  
  
“Please,” Nyota groaned, nodding soberly. “I just pulled an all-nighter talking to an alien who crash-landed in your yard, and now I’m about to lie to my parents and tell them I’m flying to visit my roommate instead of driving across the country with two guys I barely know. I need caffeine.”  
  
Jim let out an impressed whistle. “So you’re cool with the whole driving-to-San-Francisco thing? I mean, I know I came to get you in the middle of the night, and kind of dragged you into this mess, but you know that you don’t have to come along if you don’t want to, right?”  
  
Nyota reached the top of the porch steps and turned to face him incredulously. “What, are you planning to stay home after hearing all that?”  
  
“Me? It’s my fault he landed here, instead of with his dad like he was supposed to, so of course I’m gonna… what?” he demanded, squinting suspiciously at her smile.  
  
“Nothing, it’s just…” she gave a content sigh. “Jim freaking Kirk, finally showing some responsibility for his actions. It’s refreshing.”  
  
Jim sputtered indignantly, halfway between offended and flattered. Nyota took advantage of the momentary silence to push her way though the unlocked door, revealing a cluttered hallway forking off to several airy rooms and a delicate staircase banister. She stepped over a motorcycle helmet and into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “Spending the summer alone, huh?”  
  
Jim slouched in after her, self-consciously tidying a few dishes on the counter. “Yeah, well… you know how it is. Between the job and the memories, mom doesn’t really spend a lot of time here anymore.”  
  
“Mmm.” Nyota opened her mouth and then paused for a moment, as if deciding whether to let the words fall out. She sighed. “I feel like that sometimes. Like I’m abandoning my home. With college, my new life… I mean, I love my parents, and that house will always be the place where I grew up… but I think I’ve moved on. It just doesn’t feel like _home_ anymore, if that makes sense. Whenever I come back here, I feel like I’m moving backwards.”  
  
Jim watched as she gazed towards the window, her face softly illuminated in the curtain-muffled light. The sun was right on the horizon, peeking towards them over a waving ocean of corn and winding roads. She looked softer than usual. Unguarded.  
  
Then she shook her head, and the spell was broken.  
  
“Do you think aliens drink coffee?” she muttered, as Jim fished three mugs out of the cabinet and grabbed the coffee pot with his other hand.  
  
“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he grinned.  
  
Nyota filled a glass with water anyway, and they trudged back across the lawn to the barn, which was a faded blue color, almost invisible against the clear morning sky.  
  
“Rise and shine!” announced Jim, toeing open the door. Spock hadn’t moved from his chair. He accepted the glass of water reverently, then blinked as Jim poured out three mugs of coffee and handed one to him.  
  
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink the whole thing,” Jim assured him, taking a long swig out of his own scalding mug, which had a cartoon UFO scrawled across the front. He handed Nyota the mug with Shakespearean insults.  
  
“It’s coffee,” she explained. “A caffeinated beverage made from tropical beans.”  
  
“…similar to tea?” asked Spock, looking puzzled.  
  
“Ehh… close enough,” said Jim.  
  
Spock took a cautious sip, frowned, and handed the mug back to Jim, who shrugged and downed the rest of its contents.  
  
“So, what’s the plan?” asked Nyota, sipping her own coffee with dignity. “Are we driving to California in one of those trucks you’ve got parked out front?”  
  
“Naw,” said Jim, setting down the mug with an enthusiastic thud, and rubbing his hands together excitedly. “I’ve got something even better… let’s pay Scotty a visit, shall we? I hear that he's 50% less grumpy when you approach him with coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Three chapters in and I haven't given up! (This is the most fun I've had in a while, actually...) Let me know what you think, or any ideas about what you'd like to see next – I'm open to suggestions!
> 
> P.S. - any ideas for what kind of mug Jim picked out for Spock?


	4. seven'o'clock in the bloody morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jim!” he cried cheerfully. “But… aren’t you a wee bit early for your shift, lad? It’s only – what – now hang on a second, it’s only seven’o’clock in the bloody morning!” he said accusingly, brandishing a clock. “What sorta trouble have you and your little friends gotten yourselves into that you need to wake up poor Scotty at seven in the morning on a Sunday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit longer than expected to write, so I'm not sure how regular my updates will be... but I'm hoping they'll be frequent!

Nyota had been correct in saying that packing would be easy. In fact, “re-packing” would probably be a better word for it; she promptly unzipped her suitcase from college and began transferring neat stacks of still-folded shirts into an empty duffel bag, wedging sunscreen and toiletries between the gaps. She made quick work of the other boxes of clothes and coats, rifling through them efficiently: _no_ to winter fleeces; _yes_ to a light rain shell and a pair of sturdy sandals. Her notebooks and a waterbottle filled a small hiking backpack. Then, with one last glance around her room, she grabbed her phone charger, slung a bag across each shoulder, and was off.  
  
“Nyota, honey, are you sure you can’t stay for breakfast?” came her mother’s voice, as she tied the laces of her sturdiest walking shoes.  
  
“Sorry, mom, I don’t want to miss my plane.” Nyota gave her mother an apologetic smile, and turned to hug her father goodbye. “And I’m sorry this is all such short notice. I should have told you guys last night.”  
  
“Or a couple of days ago,” chided her mother, with a sad chuckle. “Your grandmother’s flying in from Kenya next week. She’ll be disappointed to hear that you won’t be around.”  
  
Nyota hesitated. “She is? But it wasn’t on the calendar…”  
  
“We didn’t tell you because she wanted it to be a surprise,” explained her father.  
  
“Is she staying for very long?”  
  
“Five days.”  
  
Nyota nodded, calculating. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone…” Outside, a car horn began to honk erratically. She tried to focus, but her brain couldn’t help but compulsively translate Jim’s Morse Code into English; she opened the door and waved at him to stop.

Jim snapped a quick salute and sat back in his seat. 

Beside him, Spock was staring at various details of the car’s interior with interest, his hands neatly tucked around a tray of coffee cups, probably itching to open the glove compartment or run a finger along the steering wheel. Jim’s own fingers were tapping restlessly on his knee. Nyota and her family continued to hover in the doorway, speaking intently, but the car door blocked out the sound of their voices.

“So, how do you like Earth so far?” asked Jim, fiddling with the A/C.

Spock lifted his gaze from the dashboard. “‘Like’ is not a concept familiar to Vulcans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vulcans value logic above all else. Emotions can interfere with logical decision-making, and so while we may appreciate something for its objective superiority, ‘liking’ something, at least as far as my father has explained the concept, is… irrelevant.”

Jim nodded slowly. “So… if I set two pens in front of you, exactly the same except that one was blue and the other was green… what would you do? How would you pick one?”

Spock hesitated. “I would likely pick whichever one was closer to my hand,” he reasoned.

Jim let out a guffaw, causing Spock’s brows to furrow in alarm. “Yeah, I’ll bet you would… so you don’t have a favorite color or anything?”

“That would be illogical.”

“Right. Well, mine’s blue.”

Spock nodded. “I shall endeavor to remember that.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “on the subject of Earth… it is colder than Vulcan, but not unpleasant. The clothing you have provided is sufficiently warm.“

He was dressed in jeans and a university sweatshirt, so he wouldn’t stand out in his conspicuous Vulcan robes; Jim had also lent him a beanie, which was pulled down over the tips of his ears. Altogether, he looked pretty human.

“So… Earth is objectively ‘okay’?”

“It is satisfactory,” agreed Spock.

At that moment, the car door wrenched open and Nyota appeared, slamming it closed as soon as she had dumped her bags on the seat beside her and swung her legs out of harm’s way. She buckled her seatbelt and started the process of waving to her parents, who were still standing on the porch.

“Long time no see!” said Jim cheerily, as Spock quietly appraised her from the passenger seat. “Didn’t take you that long to pack, huh? I was hoping we’d be invited in for breakfast.”  
  
“Oh, you’d better drive away before they hear you,” warned Nyota, giving one last wave and dropping the smile. She sat back and clapped her hands to her thighs expectantly. “Now, are we leaving or what?”  
  
\- - -  
  
Scotty’s auto shop was a large, one-story garage that looked a bit like a sunken airplane hangar standing alone on the side of the highway. The front lot was paved with gravel, and as they crunched into a parking space, Nyota noted that the cars around them seemed to be separated into two groups: battered and disassembled, or shiny and new. It was early enough that the big firefighter-style garage doors were closed, the front office appeared to be empty, and the sign hanging in the window read "Please Honk for Assistance.”  
  
Jim laid on the horn.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Jim!” shouted Nyota, covering her ears as the single note continued to blare.  
  
Beside Jim, Spock looked startled but curious. “Is this the traditional manner of greeting people from cars?”  
  
“No; Jim’s just being a dick,” replied Nyota. “Traditionally, we get out and _knock_.”  
  
“I’m just following the instructions,” grinned Jim defensively, holding his hands up off of the steering wheel and landing on the gravel outside with a hop.  
  
As it turned out, even the horn hadn’t done the trick, because when Jim whipped out a key and led them through the cluttered front office, they found a very grumpy (if only half-asleep) man, curled up on a bunk at the back of the tall-ceilinged garage. “What time is it?” he grumbled sleepily, holding up a meek hand to shield himself against Jim, who stood proudly with his hands on his hips like he was watching his puppy successfully perform a trick. The man blinked. Then his entire demeanor changed, and it was like watching a flower slide into bloom.

“Jim!” he cried cheerfully. “But… aren’t you a wee bit early for your shift, lad? It’s only – what – now _hang on a second_ , it’s only seven’o’clock in the bloody morning!” he said accusingly, brandishing a clock. “What sorta trouble have you and your little friends gotten yourselves into that you need to wake up poor Scotty at _seven in the morning_ on a Sunday?”

“Excellent question,” said Jim, beaming like the sun. “Well, you see, we’re going on a roadtrip and we need to borrow the Enterprise.”

Scotty leapt to his feet, now fully awake. He was dressed in red pajamas.

“Oh, no, you don’t, not until I get a better explanation than that!”

Spock took the opportunity to offer him a cup of coffee from the drive-through four-drink cup holder he was carrying. Scotty eyed him suspiciously, then accepted the peace offering with dignity, sipping at the hot beverage. “Where’s _he_ from, anyway? I don’t remember you mentioning him,” he said, bobbing his head towards Jim.

“Well, you’re gonna have to trust me on this one,” said Jim, taking a deep breath and then letting the words just spill out in a quick sentence. “He’s an alien from outer space who crashed into my corn field after mistaking the crop circles I made for a message from his dad. Oh, and we’re driving him to California. So we need to borrow the bus.”

Scotty took a long pause, then a swig of his coffee, before turning confusedly to Nyota. The new face seemed to catch him off guard. “Ah, you must be Miss Uhura,” he said warmly, and she accepted his handshake with a smile. Then he cleared his throat, eyes darting to Jim. “Now you’ll excuse me for my hearing, but I thought –” he coughed “– this man –” his nodded towards Jim, as though the man in question couldn’t hear or see him “– just said that your little friend over here is an alien. Could you elaborate?”

“You heard him correctly,” sighed Nyota.

“I am unclear as to what more requires elaboration,” Spock interjected politely. “However, if you have any specific questions regarding my status as an alien, I would be happy to provide answers, to the best of my abilities. Jim seems to think that the unusual shape of my ears are the most convincing form of proof.” He tugged up his beanie, revealing the pointed tips in question.

“Right. I– so– _how_ did you get here, exactly?”

“We arrived at our current destination via a small vehicle which I believe is referred to as a ‘car,’” replied Spock. “Before that, I entered Earth’s atmosphere in a Vulcan spaceship.”

Scotty’s lips mouthed the word “spaceship,” and he glanced at Jim.

“Yeah, it’s crazy, powered by warp energy or something,” elaborated Jim, waving his arm at Spock. “The point is, we need to borrow the bus so we can get to California–”

“Warp energy?” repeated Scotty, focusing his full attention on Spock.

“The technology is referred to as ‘warp drive,’ because it enables starships to travel at warp speed,” explained Spock. “I am unfamiliar with the limits of human technology, but I would guess that you have yet to move beyond light speed. My father’s spaceship is small enough that it does not contain a warp core, instead relying on stored light energy from nearby stars. As a result, we cannot travel any faster than light speed, and so it is not technically ‘powered by warp energy.’”

The two men gaped at him.

“Although, admittedly, your addition of the words ‘or something’ would technically excuse the rest of your sentence,” added Spock, when they continued to stare. He turned to Nyota, who rolled her eyes.

“Well, Mr. Scotty, could you tell us about that van Jim mentioned?” She glanced around the garage, her eyes falling on a shiny VW vanagon parked in the corner. “Is this it?”

Somewhere between swiveling back and forth at Spock and Nyota, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, Scotty managed to get control of his voice again. “I – oh, well, yes, that’s the Enterprise,” he squeaked, regaining his focus. “Spent about a month on repairs, and worth every minute.” He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the sliding door, opening it to reveal the van’s interior. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she looks nice,” said Nyota, running a hand over the smooth painted sides. The word _‘Enterprise’_ was printed below the shotgun window with careful, hand-drawn precision. Inside were three rows of seating, with the first two pairs placed back-to back, so that the couple sitting directly behind the driver faced the three-person backseat. Opposite the sliding door was a fold-out table, and under the seats were drawers for storage.

“An efficient design,” complimented Spock.

“Aye, and she’s got a few tricks up her exhaust pipe, too,” said Scotty proudly. “The roof pops up for extra sleeping space, of course; the engine itself is powered by the rooftop solar panels, just like that spaceship of yours, so there’s no need for gas… oh, and we sawed her right in half and jacked up the floor so we could fit in some lower-level luggage storage, accessible through a trapdoor and from the sides. That was a fun weekend, wasn’t it, Jim?”

“Ah yes, my scars are still healing,” laughed Jim.

Nyota raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You redid the entire engine just so it could be solar powered?”

“We redid the entire _everything,_ practically. What, did you think I was just a mechanic?” asked Scotty, laughing incredulously. “I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best damn engineers you’re likely to meet, thank ye’ very much.”

“This guy put a jet pack on a _motorcycle,”_ added Jim. “I’m telling you, he’s crazy.”

“Aye, but you’re the one who rode it,” Scotty snorted.

“Yeah, but we don’t need to hear about that,” said Jim, sobering up. “So, we ready to break her in for a test-drive yet?” he nodded at the Enterprise.

Scotty hesitated. “Well, much as I would like to help you three… I cannae just _give_ a vehicle away, and you know I can’t just leave the shop with Keenser either…” At the sound of his name, a little old man came hobbling into view, wearing overalls and a pair of small round glasses that made his eyes look especially beady. The man poked Spock in the knee and gestured towards the coffee tray; Spock lowered it to his level and he took a cup, muttering incoherently.

“How about this: we’ll forget about that money you still owe me, from when I bet on Cassian in that drag race,” pitched Jim.

“Ehh…” Scotty cringed, like a teapot leaking steam.

“And I’ll work free for a month, as soon as I get back?”

“Well…” he broke off as Keenser tugged his red pajama sleeve, and leaned down so that the smaller man could grumble in his ear. After some heated whispering, they finally reached an agreement, and Scotty straightened up again. “All right. Two months, no pay; but I’ll give you that money from the bet if you bring her back in one piece. And I expect updates, at _least_ every other day. I want to know about everything from the solar cells to the air conditioning.”

“Deal,” said Jim.

“And, of course, I’ll be expecting some video calls with this fellow,” Scotty added, gesturing at Spock. “I’ve got a _lot_ of questions for you, my friend.”

Spock looked a bit confused, but accepted the deal with a nod.

Jim clapped his hands together. “Well, with that settled, we’d better be off!” he announced. “Thanks, Scotty – you’re a lifesaver.”

“A fact you’d best remember,” agreed Scotty. “Now, Miss Uhura, Mister Spock, I trust you to look after the Enterprise, and make sure this man doesn’t get you into too much trouble. He’s a bright lad, but you’d better keep a watchful eye out. Oh, and if anything breaks, just stay where you are and I’ll drive out there myself to fix it,” he warned earnestly, scribbling his number on a stray post-it note and handing it to Nyota.

“We will,” she promised.

The garage door opened, baring the sun, and the five of them squinted at the sudden brightness.

“You two ready for this?” asked Jim. Spock and Nyota shared a glance. “I gotta warn you, I have _awesome_ taste in music.”

“Oh, great,” sighed Nyota.

And then they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a struggle, trying to decide whether to bring Scotty along for the ride. Ultimately, though, I think it works well for him and Keenser to be at the other end of the phone, kind of like they are in Engineering... and I've got some surprises planned for them, too ; )
> 
> Also, let me know if I'm ever getting Vulcans wrong. I don't know if they have personal preferences or not; I just remember hearing an interesting episode of Radiolab where they talked about how people who don't experience emotion have a really hard time picking things, because if you just sit there puzzling out the most logical decision, you'll be stuck in the cereal aisle forever. And the example they used was of one man who spent ages agonizing over which pen to pick up. I think that Vulcans _do_ have favorite colors, though, regardless of what they might say.
> 
> (And after some thought, I have decided that Jim definitely gave Spock his coffee in a Yoda mug. The green skin, the ears, the unconventional syntax – it's all there.)
> 
> If all goes according to plan, Bones should be next!


	5. on the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, another chapter!! After... a month? (Whoops...)
> 
> P.S. I know very little about cars.

Jim drove them past open fields and blue sky, blaring rock music so loud that the cars opposite them were probably getting hit with bursts of sudden noise as they sped the other way. Finally, when the sun was high enough in the sky to hide the shadows from view, Nyota unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned back around the passenger seat, and turned off the radio with a _click_.  
  
“Hey, what was that for?” asked Jim indignantly, glancing between the backseat and the road. Nyota had settled back into her seat and was picking at fries from a paper drive-through bag; Spock was still methodically chewing his salad.  
  
“We’ve been listening to that for the past five hours,” said Nyota, brushing salt off her fingers. “It’s time for a break.”  
  
“Aww, come on,” Jim moaned. “We just had a break! Besides, you can’t cut off the Beastie Boys in the middle of a track.”  
  
“I just did. And stopping at a drive-through does not count as a ‘break.’ Spock agrees with me, don’t you, Spock?”  
  
The Vulcan peeled his gaze away from his lettuce. “I would agree that six-point-six minutes of silence hardly qualifies as a ‘break,’ when compared to the overall length of the music. Additionally, I have found this music to be somewhat… distracting from my concentration.”  
  
“There.” She pursed her lips smugly. “Do you need me to drive again?”  
  
Jim sat up a little straighter at her suggestion. “Nah, I wanna reach Colorado first.”  
  
“Fine,” sighed Nyota, rolling her eyes. “Just let me know if you get sleepy.”  
  
“Will do. Now, by all means, continue whatever it is that requires your concentration, Spock.”  
  
“I shall endeavor to do so,” replied Spock, setting aside his fork. “I am teaching Nyota the written Vulcan language.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Jim glanced back over his shoulder; Nyota had handed Spock a notepad she’d been writing in, and he was now scanning over her handwritten symbols.  
  
“Most impressive… she has already memorized the basic script, and with the added distraction of your music.”  
  
Nyota beamed. “I’m used to it,” she explained modestly. “My dorm had thin walls.”  
  
“Excellent. Now we can start attaching sounds to symbols.” Spock followed his words with a harsh glottal noise, which Nyota attempted to mimic.  
  
“Oh, great,” muttered Jim. He turned down the volume knob and furtively switched the radio back on, the music soft, humming to himself to supplement the sounds that Nyota and Spock were making in the backseat as he sped closer to the old truck ahead of them. He glanced over at the lane for oncoming traffic – yes, clear, damn that double yellow line – and then over his shoulder, getting ready to swoop past the truck in an illegal maneuver–  
  
_SCREECH_.  
  
He slammed on the brakes, hurling the three of them against their seatbelts as the van jerked to a halt. There was the sound of three heads smacking back into headrests, and then a general squeal of complaint from the engine.  
  
They took a collective breath.  
  
Jim, coming to his senses first, hit the safety blinkers and cranked the gearshift into reverse, backing them up a few feet and onto the shoulder.  
  
“ _What_ ,” began Nyota, peeling herself from her seatback the moment the van settled to a stop. She craned her neck around to see through the windshield, and her eyes widened. “ _Don’t_ tell me we almost crashed into that truck.”  
  
“It– I– In my defense, its brake lights are dead,” said Jim feebly.  
  
“By my estimation, we were three-point-one seconds away from impact.”  
  
The two humans turned to stare incredulously at Spock, who was positioned in the middle back seat with a full view of the windshield, looking somewhat ruffled.  
  
“ _Three-point-one?_ ”  
  
“Plus or minus one half-second,” he clarified. The slight break in his voice was the only hint that this situation was anything other than normal.  
  
“Holy shit,” breathed Nyota. “Okay, I’m getting out.”  
  
Jim followed her lead, killing the engine and stumbling out of the van with a cautious glance at the mercifully empty road behind them. Meanwhile, the door of the truck too had opened, and an irritated voice could be heard grumbling from inside.  
  
“Dammit, first the lights, now the engine… I’m a doctor, not a mechanic, for god’s sake!” A man emerged from the vehicle, stretching his limbs stiffly and surveying the damage.  
  
Then he turned, and caught Jim’s eye.  
  
“Oh dear lord, please tell me I didn’t almost murder three people,” he said, horrified.  
  
“I, um, was following you pretty closely,” admitted Jim. “So if it’s any consolation, it would have been my fault too.”  
  
The man gaped at Jim, with a look that said very clearly that this information was definitely _not_ a consolation.  
  
“Why don’t we move off the road?” suggested Nyota, glancing nervously behind them.  
  
“Great idea,” said Jim. “If we push, can you steer the wheels towards the shoulder?”  
  
“You better be the one to do that, kid,” said the man, still looking shellshocked. Jim shrugged and headed for the driver’s side door.  
  
Nyota planted her feet in the ground, hands on the back of the truckbed; the man quickly copied her, with Spock bringing up the rear.  
  
“Okay, on three!” called Jim. “One– two–”  
  
They pushed, and suddenly the truck was moving forwards, gaining speed. Nyota took her hands off, surprised, as they swerved off the road and Jim hastily corrected the wheels. The man glanced over with a puzzled look, too, before they both saw the cause of their confusion: Spock, his fingers on the rim of the truckbed, propelling the entire vehicle forwards with such ease that he looked like he was pushing a shopping cart through the cereal aisle.  
  
“Aaaand… stop!” called Jim from the front, climbing onto the seat to engage the emergency brake. He hopped down, ambling towards them with an expectant look on his face that faltered slightly when he saw the two humans standing dumbly several feet behind the truck. He glanced between them and opened his mouth to ask a question, then thought twice. He turned to the man instead. “Got any tools?”  
  
Ten minutes later, he was giving the man a full autopsy report.  
  
“The battery’s dead; if we can’t jumpstart it that means you need a new one… you’ll need new brake lights, of course, and your mirror’s broken too… these wires are fraying… and this buddy over here’ll need to get replaced too, unless you want your engine to explode. How many miles did you say were on this thing? I’ll be honest with you, it would probably be cheaper just to get a new car.”  
  
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” grumbled the man. “I’m telling you, the ex-wife didn’t even fight for this truck, that’s how worthless it is. She took everything she could get her grubby little hands on. But this piece of shit? Nah, this ain’t worth a dime.”  
  
“Wait wait, hang on.” Jim pulled out his phone. “I know a gal. I mean, I met her once at a music festival– we met in the parking lot, actually; she had this really cool bike–“  
  
“Oh my god, please don’t say that you slept with her,” muttered Nyota, from her perch on the hood of the _Enterprise_. Spock stood between them, arms neatly folded behind his back, observing silently.  
  
“I didn’t, actually; she had this stick and I saw her beat up some guys who tried to flirt with her. But the _point_ is, she’ll buy it off of you for cheap. Trust me, it’s better than getting towed.” He crowed triumphantly, holding up his phone. “We’re in luck! She’s just seven minutes away!”  
  
“You track her GPS?” asked Nyota incredulously.  
  
“No, she uses these special radio frequencies to communicate,” Jim explained. “I plug in our coordinates, and… ta-da!”  
  
“Yeah, you lost me there,” grumbled the man. “Well, assuming this girlfriend of yours doesn’t beat us all up with a stick, what am I supposed to do after that? I got nowhere to go and no car to get me there. I suppose it’s just the Lord’s way of punishing me for leaving the South behind.”  
  
Jim glanced at Nyota before replying. “Well… you could catch a ride with us,” he offered. “We’re heading west, planning to stop off in Colorado tonight.”  
  
The man considered this for a moment, gazing mournfully over at the small assortment of bags piled into the back of his truck. Then he looked at the van. “Thanks,” he mumbled, looking sheepish. He cleared his throat. “I’m Leonard McCoy, by the way. Doctor.”  
  
“Jim Kirk,” said Jim wryly, shaking his hand. “And these two mononym’d fellas are Uhura and Spock.”  
  
“Actually, I too have a family name,” Spock corrected. “I am S'chn T'gai Spock.”  
  
“Sichin-ta- _what_?”  
  
“ _S'chn T’gai_ ,” parroted Nyota. Spock nodded approvingly, and she turned a smug smile on Jim. “It has less vowels than English,” she explained. “Think consonant clusters, like in _tsunami_ or _splice_. You get more extreme versions in Armenian or Polish, like the word _wszczniesz_ …”  
  
Jim frowned, glancing at McCoy, who was staring at Uhura with a kind of tired disbelief. “But _tsunami_ … never mind,” Jim said quickly, as she opened her mouth again, no doubt to chide him from mispronouncing the word. He glanced up at the road. “Hey, speaking of things that appear suddenly on the horizon…”  
  
A motorcycle rumbled into view, heading towards them from the opposite side of the highway. Jim waved his hands excitedly as it passed, and the bike did a U-ey, sliding smoothly to a stop beside the Enterprise.  
  
The bike was large, and had a certain custom feel about it: based on the skeleton of a factory model, it appeared to have been stripped, then rebuilt, combining elements of different motors and metals until the end result was an inventive, practical machine with much more storage space than would be expected from your average motorcycle. In addition to a boxy sidecar attachment, the front and back ends both extended out into functional compartments. On the “dashboard,” between the front handles, a sort of police radio-like contraption was secured to the makeshift windshield.  
  
“Sweet Jesus,” muttered McCoy.  
  
Then the biker stepped down, and took off her helmet, revealing dark bangs and a braid streaked with white. “James Tee,” she said, by way of greeting.  
  
“Jaylah!” replied Jim. “Glad you could come.”  
  
“You are lucky I am nearby,” she said, marching over to the hood of the truck. “I am following a signal east. This is the one, yes?”  
  
“Yep, it belongs to him,” explained Jim, gesturing to McCoy. Jaylah’s gaze swept over him, then lingered on Spock and Nyota before she turned her attention back to the truck.  
  
“You said you met her at a music festival?” Nyota murmured, taking in the dark leather jacket and medium-brown skin. “When was this, exactly?”  
  
“Spring break,” Jim replied. “But she mostly hung out in the parking lot, haggling for monster-truck parts.”  
  
Nyota raised an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah, she’s definitely out of your league.”  
  
“Hey, yours too,” pouted Jim, looking wounded. He grinned when she gave him a sharp glare. “Okay, so maybe you’ve got a better shot. Just don’t flaunt it. Did I mention that she likes the Beastie Boys too?”  
  
They broke off their whispering as the biker in question came back into view, running a hand along the side of the truckbed and kicking the tires to check for air. Then she marched up to McCoy, and started counting out dollar bills. They haggled over the price for a few minutes, and Jim wandered back to the Enterprise, plopping down in the front seat and busying himself with fiddling with the air conditioning. Finally, the two shook hands, and the doctor began unloading his bags from the truck, depositing them in the luggage compartment under the van. After a last check of the truck, he handed over the keys.  
  
“All aboard?” called Jim, as Nyota, Spock, and McCoy piled into the backseat.  
  
“I gotta sit facing forwards or I’m gonna throw up on you,” McCoy warned, causing Spock to inch over to the far windowseat warily. Nyota took the seat across from Spock, slamming the door behind her.  
  
“Good luck, James Tee,” shouted Jaylah, through the open window. “Good luck, Doctor Bones!” She waved at the other two, catching Nyota’s eye.  
  
“You too!” Jim grinned, waving back.  
  
He steered the van back onto the road again, and soon she and the truck were fading into the distance in the rearview mirror. “ _Doctor Bones?_ ” Jim repeated, when they had hit ten above the speed limit again, and were cruising smoothly.  
  
“Don’t ask,” grumbled the doctor, ignoring Jim’s grin. Jim clicked on the radio, turning the dial up to its original volume.  
  
“Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Doctor Bones,” he announced cheerfully. “Next stop, Colorado!”  
  
Nyota rolled her eyes as the music drowned him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this situation about three different ways, and I'm not sure how I like the end result... Maybe, when I eventually finish this thing, I'll come back and edit this chapter a bit. The previous versions included finding Bones and Jaylah arguing on the side of the road, or Pike pulling Jim over for speeding before we even see Bones, or meeting Bones and/or Jaylah at a bar instead. (Let me know what you think about those, if you want!)
> 
> And, a few detail notes:
> 
> I know a lot of people who pronounce "tsunami" as "sunami," a fact which I learned when trying to explain the name "Hatsune" to an American and realizing that a lot of people do not, in fact, pronounce "tsu" the Japanese way. 
> 
> And since everyone (except for Spock) is human in this AU, I'm imagining that Jaylah looks exactly like Sofia Boutella, but with two white dyed stripes of hair on either side of her head. She probably wears a similar costume to what she wears in Beyond, though. (And Gaila is a redhead with green streaks in her hair.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
